


The Offer

by ForeverWhimsy



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Camp, Cold Weather, Fallow Mire, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, One Shot, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 11:09:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForeverWhimsy/pseuds/ForeverWhimsy
Summary: Trevelyan deals with his feelings for Dorian during a storm in the Fallow Mire





	The Offer

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this Tumblr art:  
> Check it out, it’s super cute <3
> 
> http://inuy21.tumblr.com/post/148414119031

The air is different in the Fallow Mire; you’d think the incessant rain would wash away the stink, leaving fresh, crisp air in it’s wake, but it doesn’t. We slog through the mud and the squelch of my boots pulling free from earth’s watery grip is the only noise I can hear over the din of the rain. Everyone had given up conversation hours ago; it wasn’t cheering us up, anyhow. A patch of that weird air comes by again, its green mist choking me and the burning, sickly sweet smell that’s too reminiscent of the Fade.

A hand slaps me on the back.

I turn and immediately have to fight a smile. His usual pristine coif hangs in limp curls down to his eyebrows, his ever-polished mustache droops slightly to the left, and his disarmingly fetching smile is replaced with a scowl that draws lines across his forehead and pulls his unbelievably full lips into a pout. His trendsetting outfit has soaked through, clinging to muscle and showing the deep ridges and cuts of…but I digress.

“What can I do for you, Dorian?” I’m fairly certain my amusement has leaked into my tone because his scowl sours further.

“Allow me to dabble once more in time magic so I can not accompany you to this wretched land.”

I follow his gaze over my shoulder to Cole, the only one of us who has remained mostly dry due to the enormity of his hat. “Come now, you wouldn’t be caught dead in that and you know it.”

“It’s a close call; die of exposure to the elements or die of embarrassment being seen wearing…that.” He canters his head slightly, his sable locks dripping across his forehead, as though he’s actually debating which he should choose. “That’s neither here nor there!” He suddenly snaps at me. His eyes flash wildly capturing what little light my veil fire emits.

“We want to make camp!” Varric pipes up from behind me. “Sorry, Sparkler, you were taking too long.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” I turn to face everyone in my party, not just Dorian, although I immediately feel colder when I step away from him. “SOLAS!”

The elf jumps at the sudden hark and I catch Dorian snickering out of the corner of my eye. “Solas, is here an okay place to camp? No extra thin veil or creepy crawlies?”

“Again, Inquisitor, I have to implore you to please stop referring to the demon-possessed dead as ‘creepy crawlies,’” he pinches his nose between his thumb and forefinger, taking a moment to massage before he addresses me again. “I do not recommend camping here as it is on the main thoroughfare to the fortress where our soldiers are being held hostage,” his eyes narrows.

Maker, I hate when he talks like that. Always with the over specifics. Yes, I know, you’re smart. I stare at him, eyes wide, trying not to glaze over.

“…be stumbled upon in the middle of the night. However, we passed a cave not too far back…”

Dorian shoots sparks of electricity into the sky, but they die out in the heavy droplets of rain a few feet above our heads. “Alright, enough chatter, Hobo-Chic! You’re not the only one with tingly mage-senses. Let’s go!”

We only backtrack maybe fifty yards while Solas and Dorian bicker and finally agree that this is the safest spot for them to camp. It’s not so much a cave as a rock wall that happens to lean in such a way that it offers four or five feet of shelter from the rain. Varric and Solas work on getting a fire started (which no one is that optimistic about, considering the torrential downpours) while the rest of us put up our tent. That’s right, singular, tent.

“What do you mean there’s only one?” Dorian’s voice is higher pitched than usual, the poor man is on the verge of panic.

“Wet, worn, and weathered; growing cold and colder still, but warm on the inside when he looks at me...” Cole stands between me and Dorian and I’m not sure if that’s my thought or if Maker willing it could be Dorian’s. The kid just hums to a turtle he saved from the torrential rains and doesn’t look at either one of us. 

I venture a quick peek at Dorian. He’s rubbing his bare arm and staring at my shoes. Let’s just move on.  “Uhh...We were supposed to be done by now.” Dorian’s eyes snap to mine and I find myself closing the distance between us. Before I realize it, my hand is resting on Dorian’s forearm in a calming gesture. His eyes are wide and I’m too shocked to pull away. I just keep talking despite the fact that I can’t hear my own words over the thrumming of my heartbeat. “The tent was for emergencies. This wasn’t supposed to be a multi-day trip. We were supposed to get to the fortress, stay the night there if necessary, and then make it back with the soldiers. The tent is for emergencies..”

“Emergencies?” His voice squeaks, but his hands come up and grip my forearms. “What are we supposed to do in case of the emergency that Dorian of House Pavus—”

“Dorian—”

“Most recently of Minrathus—”

“Dorian—” I’m laughing now, but he’s still going.

“—has to share with…,” he glances at the fire that smokes for a moment before sadly giving up. “…Solas.”

“Dorian!” I shake him a little, but I’m still smiling. I can’t not smile and look at him, even when he’s sopping wet and his mustache is askew. “It’s just one night. Cole will keep watch and the four of us will fit just fine in the tent.”

Dorian looks back at Cole and his turtle and grumbles some more, but eventually agrees under the circumstance that he does not sleep in the middle. I assure him that can be arranged.

The fire never gets started, but the tent gets set up relatively quickly.

With no fire and miserable weather, the four of us file in to go to sleep while Cole sits down with his back against the stone wall, his blades resting neatly crossed on his lap, and the turtle—who I’ve now been informed is named Clarence—is asleep in Cole’s breast pocket. 

Dorian and Solas lay down on opposites side of the tent, which surprises no one considering how they’ve bickered today. Varric and I stare at one another before we crawl in between them.

“Varric,” the canvas tent dampers the loud rain outside and Dorian’s soft timbre is enough to break through. “Tell us a story.”

Varric chuckles. “This one is one I made up for my friend Daisy. ‘When the cards turned, he lost.’”

“Awfully short, don’t you think?” I pull the blankets tight up the my chin.

“I suppose. We were short on time when she asked me to think of one.”

“No, I didn’t mean the story.”

There’s a fist to my gut and a soft chortle as Varric says, “Good one, Trevelyan. I love short jokes. They never get old.”

“You’re right, Varric. I don’t know how anyone could stoop so low,” Dorian barely gets the words out before he howls with laughter.

Dorian’s laughter is infectious and my sides are aching before long.

“You two deserve each other,” Varric grumbles and punches his pillow a few times to find a comfortable position. He even nudges an already sleeping Solas, trying to find more room in the crowded tent. “Budge up, Chuckles.”

I roll away from Varric before he can hit me again and find myself face to face with Dorian, who’s smiling broadly at me and struggling to gain his composure.

Several minutes pass by before either one of us talk. I pass the time memorizing his face, making note to tease him about the grey in his hair that he styles to hides. It isn’t long before Varric’s snores add to the quiet symphony that is Solas’.

“Vishante kaffas! What a terrible chill!” He burrows his face into his pillow.

“Are you cold?”

One grey eye opens and looks up at me from the pillow. “Of course I am! All of my clothes are wet! I did say I hate this weather, did I not?” He sniffles. Maker, it’s an adorable sniffle. I’m not sure if it’s for dramatic effect or if it’s a legitimate sniffle. Knowing Dorian, it could be either one.

“I can warm you.” My stomach drops away from me. I hadn’t planned to offer. The words slipped out of my mouth before I even realized it. But there out there now. I lay there, waiting. I just need him to say something, anything. He’s staring at me, both eyes now, wide open. His mouth is slightly parted and it’s taking all of my effort to not sweep forward and take his mouth in mine. Maker, Dorian, say something.

Finally he props himself up on one elbow and the blanket falls away revealing well toned muscle across his chest. My eyes flicker across his chest and the top of his abdomen. I swallow thickly before I meet his eyes again.

“It’s nice of you to offer, but this is neither the time nor the place.”

But, Maker, that chest. I scoot forward on my hip, ever so slightly.

“What? Hey!” Dorian whispers, taken aback. The movement caused the blanket to fall away from my own chest and I take pride in Dorian’s preoccupation with my body.

“I’m not joking.”

“Wait! Wait! We’ll wake them!” Dorian’s whispers are rushed and loud now and he has one hand splayed across my heart. He’s right. We could easily wake them, but I really can’t get myself to care about them. All I care about right now is Dorian.

I lift my blanket, inviting him in. He looks between me and the others, his eyes flitting back and forth, chewing on his bottom lip until it reddens.

Finally, he lifts his own blanket and slides in next to me. His smalls are wet from the rain, but his body is warm and he smells of verbena and lemongrass. I inhale deeply and try to memorize everything about him. How my nose feels rubbing against his nose, the burning look of desire in his ice grey eyes, and especially how his hot breath tingles against my lips. I open my mouth—

“Hey, guys! Slow down!”

We freeze.

Varric rolls over, “There! Demons! Be careful!” A great snore rips through the air.

As long as I’ve waited to spend the night with Dorian, he is right. This is neither the time nor the place. So despite everything my body is telling me, I pull him into my chest and rest my chin atop his head, holding him like the precious jewel he is.

“You…you just want to warm me?”

Instead of answering I press a kiss into his forehead and gently squeeze him. “Good night, Dorian.”

“Oh, come on!” Solas whines, his voice ringing through the tent. “Let me sleep! You’re aware you’re not alone, yes?”

“Solas! What are you screaming about?” Varric is awake now. “You’re waking everyone up. Are you nuts?”

“What—but—,” Solas sputters.

“There’s an important mission tomorrow,” Varric scolds him gently.

“But it’s not me!” He persists.

“Are you guys okay in here? Do you need help?” Cole pokes his head in the tent’s flap, his hat dripping with rain water.

“Oh, never mind.” Solas groans.

I smile and press another kiss into Dorian’s forehead.

“You’re wicked,” he chuckles and snuggles up tighter.


End file.
